Safe Haven
by Heeroluva
Summary: The sudden appearance of an old friend into Xander's life brings to light the existence of an old enemy. Xander/Oz pre-slash, Xander-Spike friendship


Title: Safe Haven  
Author: heeroluva  
Pairing: Xander/Oz pre-slash, Xander-Spike friendship  
Contains: trauma recovery, non-explicit trauma, self-harm  
Spoilers: set post "Chosen", not comic-compliant, Xander and Spike are playing Angel (ie detective) in the DC area  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just like to play with them.  
Summary: The sudden appearance of an old friend into Xander's life brings to light the existence of an old enemy.  
Notes: I never planned on writing for this fandom again, but whiteraven1606 asked me for it... so here you go... Thanks to meteorfirefor the quick look over. All mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know if you see any. As always feedback is appreciated.

* * *

Xander entered his apartment and was instantly on alert as he heard the rustle of cloth on cloth. It wasn't shocking for Spike to turn up on his couch. However, given that he'd just been out with the vampire, he knew that there was no way it was him. A quick flip of the light switch flooded the small room with harsh yellow light. His single eye widened in shock at the sight that greeted him.

"Oz?" Xander hesitantly asked as he walked slowly towards the last person he expected to see curled up in the corner of the couch trying to disappear into the cushions. A low whimper had Xander freezing in place, and finally really taking in the sight of his old friend.

Oz's hair stuck up in odd angles, not the spiked mess it usually was. It had also grown out, and it had been some time since it had been dyed as the faded blue tips attested. Arms crossed securely across his chest, Oz's hands clenched the fabric of his sleeves so tightly that his fingers were white. Each was tipped with a bare nail, the first time that Xander had ever seen him without nail polish or chipped remnants of it. And his fingers were so thin. It was then that Xander noticed the hollowness of his cheeks, the paleness of his skin as though he'd been too long without food and sun. His clothes had seen better days, and _shit_, Xander hoped those weren't blood stains. Oz's head was down and turned away, refusing to look in Xander's direction, but Xander knew he had the wolf's full attention.

Fuck, the wolf. What if there was a problem with it? What if Oz lost control? What was he supposed to do? But then Xander remembered that Oz had learned control. However, it had been almost a year since he'd last seen him, and it was possible that something had changed. On the other hand, there was no indication that Oz was about to shift. That whimper had been purely human.

Was he hurt? Should he call someone? But no, Oz came to him, somehow found Xander's new apartment here in DC. Giles and the girls were overseas, obviously too far away to be useful.

Xander took another slow step forward and Oz gave a full body flinch. Xander froze again. Now what?

"Oz, buddy. Are you hurt? Is it the wolf? Should I call someone? Giles? Willow?"

Oz's head suddenly jerked towards him and his eyes swam with emotion, his face twisted in a mask of sorrow before quickly looking back away.

"Sorry. Right. No. Are you hungry? I could order a pizza?"

Xander sighed as Oz remained firmly silent, and moved forward, inching his way around the couch, keeping as much distance between them as he could. The stark terror in his friend was something he wanted to avoid.

"I'm going to warm you up some soup. I'll leave it here on the counter, and then I need to take a shower and head to bed. It's been a long day. If you need anything, let me know."

Oz didn't answer, and Xander didn't expect him to.

The soup was quickly heated and transferred to a bowl. Xander glanced over at Oz again finding him in the same position, and frowned before heading into the tub. Enjoying the warmth, he scrubbed himself clean. Exiting the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and dried his hair with another. Walking back into the living room, he found the soup untouched and wasn't really surprised. Maybe after Xander went to bed, Oz would venture forth.

Flicking off the light, Xander murmured, "Good night," before heading into his bedroom. Throwing the towels in the corner, he grabbed a pair of boxers and pulled them on before climbing under the cool covers.

* * *

Xander jerked awake at the scream and was on his feet, dagger from his nightstand in hand before he was fully awake. A broken sob had him out the door and into the living room.

The sight that greeted him saw the dagger hit the floor as he rushed forward towards Oz who was writhing in apparent agony on the couch, his very human nails ripping though cloth and flesh, and leaving bloody furrows in their wake. Wanting to stop him from doing any more damage to himself, Xander knelt down and wrapped his hands around Oz's wrists.

Oz instantly froze and all the hair on Xander's body stood on end as he was greeted by the emptiness of Oz's wide-awake stare. Xander abruptly let go and Oz drew away, returning to what Xander now deemed Oz's corner.

Xander swallowed thickly as he looked down at the blood on his hands. Glancing at the clearly terrified form next to him, his body shaking so violently that the couch trembled, Xander was suddenly on his feet and running towards the bathroom to lose his dinner.

It wasn't the first time Xander had seen that look on someone, been awoken by nightmares like that, and he'd hoped that he'd never have to revisit either experience. Spike had worn that face many nights when he wasn't full of bravado and blowing hot air. And Xander knew with startling clarity where Oz had been, part of what had been done to him.

The Initiative.

They'd been so blind to think that it would disappear so easily. After all, the government never gave up, never forgot unless it was convenient. They were back or had never been shut down, just gone underground, and they had had Oz for who knows how long? The past year? Gods, Xander hoped not. With a shudder, he was sick again, unable to stop imagining the possibilities when all he wanted was for his brain to shut off.

On unsteady feet, Xander grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet and moved back towards Oz's couch. With each step he took, Xander watched as Oz grew more and more tense, and Xander froze in helplessness. With a sigh he turned and set it on the counter next to the cold soup. "I just want to help you. If there's anything—if you need—" Xander broke off a frustrated sigh, his heart hurting for his old friend.

Oz had come to him for a reason, maybe because Xander was convenient, but still he was here. The ball was still in Oz's court, and this was something he knew he couldn't push.

Finally stumbling back to bed, sleep was a long time in coming.

* * *

Spike had gone statue still, forgetting to keep up the semblance of breathing, when Xander told him his suspicions the next night. If the Initiative was back or some form of it — Xander shuddered to even consider it. Spike had promptly run off in search for information in places that Xander, being a human, was unwelcome. Over the next four nights, Xander patrolled alone, taking cases where they appeared and worrying about the wayward vampire.

As far as Xander could tell, Oz hadn't touched any of the food he'd set out each day. Hell, he'd have thought that his friend hadn't left the couch, if not for the fact that there was an extra damp towel in the bathroom and Oz had changed into the clothes that Xander had left out for him.

The fifth night was much the same, except when Xander returned from patrol Xander found the food that he'd left out had finally been eaten. It brought with it a sense of relief that maybe Oz had taken the first step towards recovery. That night, as with the previous others since Oz had turned up on his couch, Xander found himself suddenly awake. However, Xander was disoriented because, despite straining his ears in the silence, it wasn't a sound that had woken him.

A movement in the dark near the door had Xander sitting up, and calling, "Oz?"

Oz's shadowy figure froze, but he didn't reply, didn't make a sound.

Xander wasn't sure how much time passed during their silent stalemate in the dark before he finally laid back down, turning to face in Oz's direction. He didn't know what to make of this, didn't know what to do, but knew it was progress. That was something.

When he awoke again and got ready for the day, Oz was back on his couch again. But for the first time that Xander had seen, Oz was asleep and relaxed, looking so young. It broke Xander's heart all over again that anyone had to go what he went though. That he didn't know the details was a blessing.

* * *

Relief flooded Xander when Spike finally showed up again that night after he helped the local Brachen clan with a _pest_problem. But the relief was short lived as he took in the harsh bruises and jagged cuts on the vampire's face.

"What—?"

Spike cut him off. "Don't ask, pet. Just know it's taken care of."

Xander's eyes went wide. He hadn't expected that. But Xander knew that when Spike said to drop it, it was for Xander's own protection, so he grudgingly accepted it.

"How's the wolf?" Spike asked as he took a drag from his cigarette, and at Xander's startled expression added, "Can smell him on you."

Xander nodded and swallowed. "I—I'm not sure. He scared me that first night. I mean not that I was scared _of_ him but _for_him. I remember what it was like for you, but this is so much worse."

Spike nodded his understanding. "I'm a demon, pet. We thrive on pain and torture. He may be a wolf, but he's still human. You sort aren't nearly so durable."

Xander was suddenly angry. "Don't talk like that. Just because you may enjoy some pain with your sex doesn't mean that what they did to you, both of you, was right. I was there, remember? I remember the nightmares. Demon, you may be, but you're less of a monster than any of the humans that experimented on you. Don't talk like you were okay with it, that it didn't affect you, that it was something less than it was because you're a demon. They had no right —" Xander suddenly stopped, shaking.

Spike's arms were suddenly around him, pulling him close, petting his hair, and Xander hated it. He wasn't the one hurt. He shouldn't be acting like this.

"You're right. They didn't. And they're gone now. Let's get you home now. You can check in on your wolf."

Xander let himself be led, suddenly drained, the past week catching up to him. Spike declined his invitation to come in for once, and Xander knew it was for Oz's comfort. It wasn't until Xander was inside the door that he realized that Spike had called Oz 'his wolf'.

Glancing over at Oz, he was startled to find Oz staring at him, his blue eyes bright and alert and his nose slightly curled as though he was scenting the air. Oz's lips suddenly raised revealing teeth that shouldn't have looked so sharp, and it was then that he realized that the wolf could smell Spike on him.

Xander hurried to explain, "It's just Spike, Oz. I'm not hurt. Promise."

Oz cocked his head to the side, not looking convinced, but his features relaxed.

Xander went through his usual routine, washing off the grime of the night before making dinner. It should have been odd with Oz silently watching his every move from his couch, but Xander found that he didn't mind it. Taking a chance, Xander set the sandwiches he made for Oz on the end table next to the couch instead of the counter as he had the previous nights before taking his own and sitting at the small dining set in the kitchen.

Xander began eating and watched as Oz split his attention between him and the food near him, seemly unsure if it was really for him. Xander smiled to himself as Oz hesitantly reached for one. Suddenly snatching it from the plate, it was gone in two bites. The next followed in a similar fashion and the third was eaten at a much slower pace.

Finishing his own, Xander stood and felt guilty as Oz jumped and looked at him. "Sorry. It's okay. Do you want some more?" Oz didn't respond of course, but Xander made up a couple more sandwiches anyway, switching the empty plate with the new one. Oz just stared at him, his blue eyes fathomless and unreadable, but he made no move towards the food.

Making quick work of the dishes, Xander told Oz, "Good night," before turning off the light and heading to bed. The lack of sleep the past week finally catching up to him, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

It wasn't a sound or a presence that woke Xander again later that night, but rather the movement of the bed as someone climbed in, a rather uncommon occurrence since he was not seeing anyone. It took him a moment to process that before he slowly turned to face that other side of the bed that he knew Oz now occupied. It was unexpected to say the least, but it was progress.

In the darkness, Xander could barely make out Oz's outline, but he felt his eyes on him and knew that Oz was able to see him just fine. Xander smiled softly in welcome and Oz scooted close until Xander could feel the warm puff of Oz's breath against his chest. With one last wiggle, Oz was suddenly pressed up against him, head laying over Xander's heart. Shudders wracked Oz's frame, and Xander couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Oz to come this far.

With trembling fingers, Xander raised his hand and slowly lowered it to rest on Oz's head, sliding down to cup his cheek. Feeling the wetness of tears on his chest, Xander curled around him and Oz suddenly clung to him, tight enough to bruise, but it was a price that Xander was more than willing to pay to help his friend. "I've got you. You're safe. You don't have to worry about them anymore. I promise. Spike says they've been dealt with. They're gone, Oz. I promise they'll never touch you again."

Oz when rigid in his arms, when Xander said they were gone, and then like a puppet whose strings were cut, he broke down. Great heaving sobs shook them both, and whines more wolf than not filled room, and Xander just held him tight, offering what little comfort he could.

This was just the beginning, Xander knew. Nothing was solved. This version of the Initiative may have been gone, but that didn't mean that it was over. There were more groups, he was sure now, more factions, bigger than any of them. But Xander couldn't worry about any of that now. His priority was Oz, had to be. Tonight may have been a milestone, but he also knew that Oz's recovery would be a long one that they'd barely scratched the surface, and that there would be good days and bad. Xander knew was out of his league here.

As Oz finally quieted and stilled, a long buried part of him suddenly surged to life, and Xander vowed that he would do everything in his power to keep Oz safe.


End file.
